


Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining

by suffoKATEing



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suffoKATEing/pseuds/suffoKATEing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck in a motel room with one bed, the Winchester boys make it through the storm.</p><p>Not intended as Wincest, but could be read that way.<br/>Yes, it's that story where a character is scared of thunder storms. Big brother comfort ensues.<br/>Scared!Sam</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder Only Happens When It's Raining

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not kill me if it's awful.  
> Enjoy!

“We only got one room left,” said the night clerk, matter-of-factly. His bored expression went well with his dirty appearance. 

“Okay,” Dean replied with his most charming smile, “that’s the one for us then.” The clerk eyed Dean, then looked pointedly at Sam through the smudged office window.

“’Sonly got one bed.”

“Oh,” said Dean, smile faltering. He cast a glance back at his brother, then at the quickly darkening sky. It looked like a definite storm approaching, maybe a nasty one too. He considered what would be worse; possibly crapping out on a lumpy motel sofa after a poorly played game of Rock-Paper-Scissors, or driving in a downpour. He sighed. “Well, we’ll figure something out.”

The clerk handed Dean a rusted key with the number 201 printed on the yellowing tag. “Have a good night, and thank you for choosing the Motor-Inn,” he droned.  
\--x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—

The room in question was much smaller than Dean had expected. There was a tiny wooden table with two hard backed, cushion-less chairs in one corner, an antenna TV that was probably still in black and white, and a single, full sized bed in the center of the room, headboard pressed against the adjacent wall. 

“Home sweet home,” Dean chimed, casting a sarcastic grin at Sammy. Sam gave his most practiced eye-roll and dropped his bags on the floor by the table, immediately setting up his computer. Dean kicked his own belongings under the bed and looked around the room once more, taking in the startling lack of sofa. No way his back could handle a night on the floor—the Chimera they’d just fought had taken the hell out of both of them. 

“So, how are we gonna do this, exactly,” asked Sam, voicing Dean’s own thoughts.

“Uh,” faltered the elder brother, eyes scanning the room for a way out of Plan B. The chairs were too hard to fashion into a makeshift bed, and the floor was definitely not an option. “Well, there are two pillows.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened as he grasped what Dean was saying. “No.”

“C’mon, Sam,” Dean joked, “I’ll take a shower and everything!”

“Dude, we’re not little kids anymore,” stated Sam, “there’s no way we’re sleeping in the same bed. It’s weird.”

“It’s not that weird…”

“Dean!”

“Well, what else do you want to do?” Dean flung out his arms in exasperation. “Look around, Sammy. I’m not seeing too many other options.”

Sam paused for a moment, then sighed in resignation. “Fine. But if you kick me once in your sleep, so help me, I will push your ass out of the bed.”

“Deal,” Dean replied, “just don’t go stealing all the blankets, bitch.”

“Jerk,” muttered Sam as Dean headed off to the shower.  
x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x—x

Dean had to admit that it was a bit awkward at first. As Sam had so helpfully pointed out, they hadn’t shared a bed since they were little, and now the both of them were much bigger. The adjustment to the larger limbs they’d both grown took a bit of tossing and turning to figure out, but once they were settled, Dean facing the door and Sam turned to face the dirty window opposite it, it wasn’t that bad. The strangest part was feeling the body heat that built between them; Dean hadn’t felt that kind of warmth since he’d left Lisa. 

No, he thought, gripping his pillow a little tighter, not thinking about that now. Not right now. 

Thunder rolled softly in the distance. It was quiet for now, but it was doing its best to keep Dean up. Sam had pretty much fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and the noises from the outside world weren’t bothering whatever dreams he was caught up in. Dean vaguely hoped they were good ones as his eyes began to flutter shut.  
He woke an hour or so later to a particularly loud crack of thunder, a blinding flash of lightening, and a startled gasp. He looked over his shoulder to find Sam sitting upright in bed, his knees slowly creeping closer to his chest with each boom from the storm.

“Sammy?” asked Dean, rolling over to inspect his brother. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” stuttered Sam, fake laugh quickly turning to a nervous one as the thunder crashed again. “’Course I’m okay, why—why wouldn’t I be?”

At first Dean thought it had been a nightmare that had woken Sam up.

Then he remembered.

Thunder storms. And it wasn’t like the clown thing either, that was a fear that Dean could never understand, probably never would. But he remembered very clearly why thunderstorms had Sam spooked.

~~~~

It had been the first time Sam ever tried to run away. He must have been about six or seven at the time, which made Dean eleven, going on twelve. They were in a crappy motel in Wyoming, holed up for the night while Dad went to hunt a poltergeist at a local cattle ranch. 

Dean hadn’t even been irresponsible that time. He’d gone to the bathroom, maybe for five minutes, and when he came back out, Sam was not sitting in front of the TV where he’d left him. Dean smiled and laughed lightly; hide and seek was a game that Sam loved to play.

“Oh no,” he cried in faux-worry, “where did Sammy go?” He peeked behind the shabby drapes of the motel. “Hmm, not over here.” He dropped to his stomach and looked under the bed. Nothing but a few discarded bubble gum wrappers. He made his way into the kitchen. Sam was obviously not under the kitchen table, which left—  
“He’s in the cabinet!” exclaimed Dean, throwing open the doors under the kitchen sink. It was empty. 

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach.

“Okay, Sammy,” he tried, “you win.” Not even a giggle. Sam was good at this game, but not that good. “Sam?” he yelled, running back into the bedroom. “SAM?!”

Dean raced out the door, and skittered into the parking lot, looking left and right for his baby brother.

“Sammy,” he called, “where are you? Sam!” It had been raining all day, and now the clouds were darkening from grey to black. Dean took off running toward the small playground he and Sam had visited earlier in the day, before the rain really began to come down. Thunder crashed in his ears now. The swings blew back and forth with the phantom children of the storm, but not his brother. The play area was entirely empty.

“Sam!” Dean was yelling in earnest now, so close to tears it made his throat hurt. Lightening flashed dangerously close; Dean could see the shape of each bolt, just over the hill. 

“Sam!” His shout was lost in a roll of thunder, but somehow, miraculously, he could hear the response.

“Dean!” In the noise of the storm, it came as a panicked whisper, but Dean had heard it all the same. 

“Sam,” he hollered, whipping his head this way and that, “where are you?”

“Here,” came the whisper again. “Over here!” Dean spotted a hunched figure under the big tree on the hill. The wind scattered the autumn leaves in small cyclones.

Finally, Dean dropped to his knees beside his brother. Sam immediately clutched to his shirt, crying into his shoulder. 

“What’d you do that for, Sam?” cried Dean, his anxious tears finally spilling over in relief. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“Sorry,” murmured the little boy, “ ’M sorry, Dean.” The lightening flashed too close and Sam buried himself deeper in his brother’s shoulder. “Wanna go home, now. Wanna go back.”

“Okay,” soothed Dean, scooping his baby brother up in his arms. He carried Sam all the way back to the motel and held him until the storm was over. As Sam got older, and wanted to act like nothing could scare him, Dean would pretend to not notice the way he’d jump when thunder rolled overhead.

~~~~

“Is it the storm?” asked Dean quietly. A flash of lightening revealed the fear in Sam’s eyes.

“What? No.” Sam scooted closer to Dean as the thunder cracked again, growing louder as the storm drew near. Dean sighed and reached up to put his hand on the back of Sam’s neck, guiding him down to lay his head on Dean’s chest.

“D-Dean, what—“ Sam was cut off but the loudest roll of thunder by far, and he bunched the fabric of Dean’s shirt in his hands, just as he had the time Dean found him beneath the tree. Dean had a feeling this storm was going to be just as bad as that one had been, and he swore to himself that tomorrow, he wouldn't say a word to Sam. This was a fear he’d never mock him for.

“Sammy, do you know why thunder storms happen?” asked Dean, running his hand in circles over Sam’s back.

“Yeah, they happen when cold fronts and hot fronts collide,” Sam replied. Of course college boy knew that. 

“Right,” said Dean, gazing at the ceiling. “Well, there’s a reason for that, too.” Sam looked at his brother in confusion. 

“Before God created man, he gave the Earth to the Sun and the Moon to watch over. The Sun would watch it during the day to make sure all was well, and by night, the Moon took over this duty. Every day, for years and years, the Sun and the Moon circled the Earth and carried out this task. 

Then one day, they met; this was the first eclipse. And on that day, the Moon and the Sun fell desperately in love. But they had to go their separate ways, because it was their job, and the Earth needed looking after all hours of day and night. It hurt them badly to be apart. Then one day, the Sun had an idea. He reached out his hand to where the world turned over and the dominion of the Moon began. She could feel the heat of his hand just on the cusp, and so the Moon reached out her own. When the cold of the Moon’s hand joined with the heat of the palm of the Sun, a dark cloud formed.

It was painful for the Sun and the Moon to touch each other, and so the Moon began to cry, and her tears tricked down her outstretched arm and into the cloud. They fell to Earth, and became the first rain. The Sun, seeing the tears of the Moon, cried out, and his shout became thunder. Their hands began to slip, and the harder they tried to hold on, the more friction it caused between their palms. Finally, a fire broke between them and shot down to Earth, and this fire became known as lightening.” Dean looked down at Sam, running his fingers through the younger man’s hair as he hummed that Fleetwood Mac song. “Thunder only happens when it’s raining…”

“Sammy, can love ever hurt you?” he asked seriously, catching his brother’s eye.

“No,” Sam responded quietly, cautiously. They’d been proven almost wrong on that before.

“Then neither can thunder storms. They only happen because the Sun loves the Moon.” Sam smiled.

“I’m not five anymore, you know,” he mumbled, but made no move to pull away from the warmth of his older brother’s arms. He’d forgotten quite how safe that felt. 

“You are to me, always will be,” Dean whispered as Sam floated out of consciousness.

“Hm?” 

“Nothing,” he said thickly. He couldn't figure out why he felt sad all of a sudden. “I love you, Sam.”

“Love you too, Dean.”


End file.
